Like Father...Like Son
by Garbage and City Lights
Summary: Short story about Draco's family problems. ...as if he didn't have enough, hm?


_"I need a drink," the man moaned as he paced the white, sterile halls nervously.  
"Gracious, sir, you're going to wear a hole in the tile. Sit down." The nurse standing by the receptionist desk had suddenly become interested in his business. The man scowled at her and tipped his chin up.  
"I'm fine right here, thank you." He promptly began pacing again. The nurse sighed and shook her head.  
"Whatever you wish, sir." She scurried out, leaving the man to his pacing and his thoughts. His steps were particularly tense and agitated--he was waiting for something. Every few seconds, gray eyes would flick from the doors to the floor, the doors, then the floor again. Something was coming, something important. The doors, the floor. The doors, the floor. The man gave a frustrated sigh and dragged a hand through his blonde hair. It would never end. He'd just keep pacing and sighing and pacing and sighing until he was dead. This awful apprehension, it would just keep building and building... He stopped suddenly. The thought had just entered his head, a vision of a tall slender bottle. The answer to every problem.  
"It wouldn't really make any difference, just one whiskey..." With that reassurance, the man abruptly left the waiting room.  
  
"Sir?" The man looked up from his near-empty bottle.  
"Hm?" The doctor frowned for a moment, then produced a small, blanketed bundle.  
"Your son, sir." The man scowled slightly at the baby, poking at the folds of the sheet.  
"Where is--*hic*--he?" The physician, looking skeptical, pulled back the cover. Revealed was a tiny porcelain face, pale and smooth. The baby boy smiled up at his father, blinking clear blue eyes. He struck out with his tiny, curled fingers and gurgled. The man leaned forward and sneered in the child's face, blowing breath that reeked of alcohol. "He looks like a pansy." The doctor pulled the baby away and pursed his lips.  
"This is your son, Mr. Malfoy." Malfoy hiccupped and took another swig.  
"The woman decided on a name?" he mumbled, words becoming slurred.  
"Yes. Draco."  
"Draco." Lucius Malfoy leered and finished off the bottle.  
  
The baby began to cry._  
  
Draco straightened his small black tie as best he could. The white collar was too stiff and it hurt his neck. Besides, the perfume that floated around the room made him want to sneeze.  
"Mother," he complained, tugging at the tie yet again, "do we really have to go to this bloody banquet?"  
"Yes, we do," Narcissa Malfoy replied, giving the perfume a final spritz. "It is necessary that we show up tonight and honor the High Wizards. You need to look your best."  
"But _Mother_," Draco protested. He frowned down at his bowtie, which had become hopelessly mangled in his attempts to straighten it. "do we _really--_"  
"Yes. I believe we've been over this several times--" Narcissa turned to him and smothered a chuckle beneath her hand. "Oh, goodness, Draco. You've gotten it all crumpled up--here, let me help." She pulled it from his collar, smoothed it out, and restrung the tie. "Here. Just a few quick knots and...voila." His mother stepped back to admire her work. Draco turned to the mirror and nodded in approval.  
"Thank you." He ran a hand over his fair hair to slick it back, then struck his chin at a regal angle. "How do I look?" Narcissa stood behind her son and smiled over his shoulder.  
"You look just like your father." Draco blinked once or twice, then silently got up and walked slowly for the bathroom. "Draco?"  
"Mm." The door opened, then closed.  
"Draco? Draco, love, I'm going downstairs... are you all right?"  
"Mm hm." There was a short period of quiet.  
"All...all right, then. Be down shortly, okay?"  
"Mm hm." Steps retreated down the stairway until they drifted off into silence. When it was certain that the bedroom was empty, the lock clicked. Alone in the bathroom, the dam of emotions shuddered and Draco gave a long, low moan. The wall that blocked off his feelings, his tears... cracks appeared in the defense. Then, unable to keep the dam of emotions erect, he wept.


End file.
